What's important to you...

Dear Dad,

It has been two days since I wrote, and I have a lot to say, and little to report on.

Yesterday, it was amazing, you were "overloaded" with your medications until you were clear minded, and it lasted such a short time.  The doctor came in and told you that you will never go home, that your final days would be spent running from the nursing facility to the ER and each time your body would suffer more, and each time you would be a weaker than before, that you were being kept in this state by medication, and if you stopped taking your meds, you would die.

Later, after she left, you talked with me about it.  You told me you did not want to return to the hospital again, that if this was as good as it was going to get, you would rather go ahead and stop taking the meds.  I think the clincher was when the doctor told you that you would probably last about 4 days until your next "episode."

I called the doctor for you and asked her to stop the meds.

It was hard, but I knew you were right.

We talked a lot.  Your mind was so clear, it has been a long time since we have talked like this, but I knew it would be gone again soon. You called your sister and told her goodbye, you talked with your pastor, and you talked with me, a lot.

I told you I would miss you, and we both cried.

Then I stopped and said, "you won't miss me" and you looked at me kind of funny, and I said, "You will be with your mother and father, and your friends that have gone before.  You will be living that thing we sing about, the Joy Unspeakable ... full of glory, eternal peace and happiness."

It seemed to settle you for awhile.

Later, we talked about how you wanted to distribute items, and what you wanted in your funeral.

It was a time to just be still, and listen.

I went home after you started resting, and sent some messages to my son.

I told him how you made choices to stand up to not the possibility of death, but the assurance of death, and you did not back down.  You faced it with dignity and courage.

You continue to make an impact on your family.

Yesterday, when I arrived, you were asleep in front of your breakfast tray.  I woke you up, helped you eat, and you asked me if I thought you were committing suicide by doing this.  I answered, "No, you are just no longer fighting the inevitable.  You are allowing God to take over and bring you home at his schedule."

Family arrived, and you had a busy day.

At the end of the day, you were exhausted, it was hard to talk in more than a whisper.

You told us to never miss an opportunity to serve God, that is the most important thing in life

I left with a lot of the family, and gave you some time with my brother.  He came in from Kansas City and wanted to spend some time with you.

I think about the highlights of the day, talking with hospice as they described your final days.  As your liver functions begin to cease, you will begin to experience more confusion and feel weak, eventually slipping into a coma, where you will make your journey home.

There will be no pain.

You told the doctor you wish you could live longer, but you are ready.

Ready...confident...assured...soon to be complete and perfect.

It is hard to say goodbye, but in eternity, where time exists no more, it will be only a blink and we will be with you.

All is well, try to rest Dad.